


Childish Things

by Nahiel



Series: Childish Things [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 11:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13188915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nahiel/pseuds/Nahiel
Summary: Harry didn't know what he wanted out of life, but Hogwarts seemed as good a place as any to figure it out.  But it turned out that going back to the school was more stressful than not.  When he asked the Room of Requirement for a place to de-stress, he didn't know what he was expecting, but he was pretty sure it wasn't what he got.Still, it worked.





	Childish Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing non-sexual age play. I hope it turned out as well as I think it did!

“I don’t know that I want to go back to Hogwarts,” Harry said. He looked down at his hands, which were cradling a warm cup of tea. The wood of the outside table was rough, but Harry didn’t mind. It was nice outside, sitting with Ron and Hermione, without any kind of danger to make them nervous. “It’s just… there are so many bad memories there, you know?”

Hermione nodded as Harry spoke. “I know,” she said. She took a sip of her own tea, and settled it gently back on the table, the cup not making a sound as it landed on its saucer. “But Harry, you need to finish your education. How can you expect to get anywhere in life if you don’t?”

“The Auror program would probably accept me without finishing Hogwarts,” Harry said, but it was a feeble protest at best. He wasn’t even entirely sure he wanted to be an Auror. He’d told McGonagall that in his fifth year, yes, but…

But he’d spent his entire life fighting one dark wizard, and wasn’t particularly inclined to spend even longer fighting more.

Hermione just stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

Harry knew what she was thinking. “But I don’t think I want to be an Auror.”

“Harry!” Ron protested beside him, speaking up for the first time. “What do you mean you don’t want to be an Auror? I thought we were gonna go through the training together, be partners, that kind of thing!”

Harry flinched. “We were,” he said slowly. “I just… Ron, my whole life has involved fighting dark wizards, and I’m… I’m tired.” He swallowed. He lifted his tea, now more cold than not, to his lips and took a sip. He could have warmed it, but it was fine the way it was.

“Right,” Ron muttered. “You’re _tired._ ” The emphasis Ron placed on the word made Harry flinch. “What do you think Ginny’s gonna have to say about this? You think she’s going to be okay with you just changing your plans?”

Harry froze in the act of setting his teacup down. “Ginny doesn’t have a say in what I do,” Harry said slowly. They’d broken up when things had really gotten tough. Had Ron forgotten about that? Yes, initially it had been because Harry had wanted to protect her, but now that they’d been apart, Harry was pretty sure that he was nowhere near ready for any kind of relationship.

“What do you mean she doesn’t have say?” Ron stared at Harry like he was crazy.

“They broke up,” Hermione pointed out. “You are still broken up, aren’t you?” She turned to Harry, expectation clear in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly. “I mean, we broke up because of the war at first, but I don’t want to get back together with her or anything. I don’t think I really like her like that.”

“So you’re just gonna break my sister’s heart, Harry?” Ron stood up, his arms crossed as he glared down at Harry. “How could you do that to her? You know she’s been waiting on you, right? Waiting for you to come see her, to take you back.”

Harry looked back down at his teacup. “I never told her to do that,” he said. He wanted to pick it up again, but he’d only just set it down. He couldn’t. “Please, Ron, can we not fight about this right now? I’m tired.”

“And if you’re tired, well, obviously we all have to let you be so that you can do whatever you want, right?” Ron snorted, the sound bitter. “Whatever, Harry.”

Harry looked up, but Ron was already storming off, disappearing into the bowels of the Burrow. He turned to Hermione, his mouth half-open, but Hermione was standing as well, dusting herself off. “I should go after him,” she said apologetically, and left Harry sitting alone at the table outside of the Burrow.

Harry sighed and his shoulders slumped. He took another sip of his now completely cold tea, and thought briefly about warming it once more. He didn’t bother. Someone settled across from him, and he winced to see Ginny sitting there.

“Ron’s pissed that we aren’t getting back together, isn’t he?” Ginny asked bluntly.

Harry froze. He hadn’t really talked about it with her, which he supposed was kind of a shitty thing for him to do, but how did she know if he hadn’t… He opened his mouth to ask her, and she laughed at him, the sound light and carefree.

“Harry, please,” she said through her laughter. “If you were at all interested in picking things up again, you had a number of opportunities. I’m not angry or anything; we’re both very different than we were last year at this time. And Ron would know I wasn’t angry if he’d bothered to talk to me about it at all, which he hasn’t.”

Harry looked down at the table again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come and talk to you directly.”

Ginny reached out and touched his hand gently. “You were never that great with emotions,” she said teasingly. “It’s okay. I get it. I’m not angry at all, about anything.”

Harry relaxed in stages, his shoulders slumping once more. “Ron is,” he said morosely.

“Ron will get over it,” Ginny responded. “He’s just upset because he thinks I’m upset.”

“And because I told him that I’m not sure about being an Auror,” Harry muttered. He took another sip of his tea. “He wants to go through training together, to work as partners, but I just… I’m just not sure that it’s what I want.”

“And why should you want to do that for the rest of your life?” Ginny asked with a shrug. “You’ve already spent seven years essentially doing the job. You deserve a break, Harry. Travel a bit, go back to Hogwarts for your last year, whatever you want to do. But don’t let anyone else, least of all my brother, tell you that you have to do something because it’s what everyone thinks you should do.”

Harry closed his eyes as her words sunk in, a weight lifting from him with every word she spoke. “Thank you,” he breathed, his voice shaking a little. He had to keep his eyes closed, or he was afraid he would start to cry, and he didn’t think that he could handle that. Once he started, he might not be able to stop.

Ginny stood, her chair creaking as she abandoned it. She patted him on the shoulder as she walked past him, heading into the Burrow herself. “You don’t need to thank me, Harry,” she said gently. She patted him again, and then he was alone once more.

He still didn’t know what he was going to do with himself, but he was starting to feel better about it.

ooOOooOOoo

It took him most of the summer and a visit from Headmistress McGonagall herself for Harry to make up his mind. She arrived at Grimmauld Place in a flurry of soot, which she quickly banished from herself, and stared at Harry as he gaped at her, because he hadn’t been expecting her at all.

“Headmistress,” he said slowly, the word a little difficult to shape because he was so surprised. “Can I help you?”

“You haven’t yet responded to your invitation to finish your education,” McGonagall said bluntly. “And I wanted to come and see you personally, to see if we could work through whatever concerns you might have.”

“I just…” Harry stopped, and took a deep breath. “Do you want to sit down before we talk? I could get you a cup of tea. Or… well, Kreacher could, he doesn’t really let me do much around the house. He’s so happy that I managed to…” Harry stopped himself, because McGonagall didn’t need to know about Slytherin’s locket and Regulus’ sacrifice.

“Tea would be lovely,” McGonagall said. “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry swallowed. “Of course, Headmistress.” He tried out a smile for her, and was relieved when it didn’t feel too awkward on his face. “Kreacher?” he called, and asked the elf for tea when he appeared in front of Harry.

The house elf served it politely, and then disappeared back to wherever he spent his time when he wasn’t actually with Harry. Harry settled more deeply into his seat and said, “So, you wanted to talk to me about Hogwarts?”

“Are you interested in attending?” McGonagall asked bluntly. She added sugar to her tea, and just a bit of cream, then took a sip, her eyes closing a little. Kreacher did brew a very good cup of tea, so Harry could sympathize.

“Kind of?” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know what I want in life, Headmistress, and I don’t know if attending Hogwarts would be a good idea or a bad one, given all the history I have there. And most of it, well, if I’m going to be honest, Hogwarts was a nightmare for me in a lot of ways. I’m afraid that going there might…”

It might be catastrophic for his emotional health. He was already having nightmares, and while Hogwarts might have been the safest place in the world for most students, it had never been a safe place for Harry.

Sometimes Harry thought that he didn’t even know what a safe place felt like, because he wasn’t sure he’d ever really felt safe for a day in his life.

“I understand,” McGonagall said, nodding along with him as he spoke. “But Harry, if you’re not sure if you want to be an Auror, then you’re going to have to figure out what you want to do, exactly. And that’s going to mean taking some time, maybe studying a bit, and what better place is there to do that then Hogwarts?”

Harry could see her point, and he didn’t even really disagree with it. Still… “Who else is coming back?” he finally asked. “Because I can’t imagine that every seventh year from last year is returning.”

McGonagall smiled a little. “And you’d be right. There are several who took their NEWTs privately, but there are many returning. Hermione is, and I know that she was speaking with Ron about potentially returning. Mr. Longbottom is also returning. I think he has his eye on taking over for Pomona when she retires, which she’s thinking of doing sooner rather than later.” Then she paused, and added, a bit more quietly, like she was uncertain of saying it, “Mr. Malfoy is also returning.”

Harry looked down at his cup, which he hadn’t even touched. “Malfoy deserved to be pardoned,” he said quietly. “He saved my life.” Harry wasn’t sure that he would ever like the former Death Eater, but he also knew that Malfoy had been raised with an enormous pressure to be like his father, and Harry found it difficult to blame him for what he’d done.

“There are those who would disagree with that statement,” McGonagall said, but her voice was neutral as she said it. “Personally, of course, I am not one of them, otherwise I never would have let him come back for his final year. And if you do return, Harry, I expect that there will be no more childish spatting between the two of you.”

“Of course not,” Harry said. He smiled a little. “I think the time for childish spatting is over, don’t you?”

The thought almost made him sad. He’d never really had much time for childish things, had he? He supposed he should just be grateful that he’d survived his childhood, given the way that it had gone, but…

“So you’ll return, then?” McGonagall asked, her voice gone brisk and businesslike.

Harry returned to the topic at hand with a startled little jump. “I think… maybe?” He shrugged. He still wasn’t sure if it was really the right thing for him to do, but at the same time, he couldn’t really see a reason to say no. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with himself, and returning to Hogwarts for one more year seemed like a good way to bridge the gap and figure out what he wanted, now that he definitely had a future wherein he would have time to do something, to be someone he wanted to be.

“Excellent.” McGonagall finished her tea, then handed Harry a thick envelope with a handful of pieces of parchment. “Your supplies list, Mr. Potter, and a list of the rules that will be different for eight years than for regular students. We look forward to having you at Hogwarts once more.” And then she winked at him, and added, “And of course, eighth year students will be permitted on their house Quidditch teams, so I’m sure that Gryffindor will be very glad to have you back.”

Harry laughed a little, not entirely sure that he was feeling the right level of mirth at the joke, but it was fine. He’d play Quidditch, of course he would. It was practically expected of him. “Thank you for coming to see me, Headmistress,” he said quietly, formally, and stood to walk her to the fireplace so that she could Floo out.

And then she was gone, and Harry had a direction, at least for the next year. He still didn’t know if it was the right direction, but it was at least a direction, and that seemed like a start.

He wished that Dumbledore had at least attempted to prepare him for a potential future, rather than deciding that he was going to die and not trying to prepare him at all for not dying.

Harry shoved that thought aside. Dumbledore had done the best that he could, and Harry knew it. He had to stop being childishly resentful, and now had to figure out what to do with his life. He could do it. He’d defeated Voldemort, after all. Surely planning out his life couldn’t be that difficult, right?

ooOOooOOoo

Hogwarts was definitely a mistake. It had been an entire year since Harry had needed to worry about things like school, and he’d forgotten more than he remembered during the course of that year. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had more important things to worry about, after all.

But he was determined to keep trying, because he couldn’t just walk away. For one thing, it would leave him with nothing to do, and he knew that was as bad an idea as being at Hogwarts, if not a worse idea. For another thing, school had never been so stressful before, so there was no reason he should let it stress him out now.

He just… he just needed to find somewhere where he could breathe. Where he wasn’t surrounded by people who all wanted to talk to the savior of the wizarding world, to the Boy Who Lived. He wanted to hide someplace where he couldn’t feel Ron’s muted hostility, because he was still mad that Harry wasn’t going to get back with Ginny. Which didn’t even make sense, because it wasn’t like Ginny was upset, but who knew how Ron’s mind worked?

Harry felt like he was a spring, wound tight and ready to go off with the slightest bit of provocation, and he knew that he needed to do something about it. Flying was out, as it happened, because when he flew he gathered a large crowd, no matter what time of day he did it. And he couldn’t exactly do it in the dark, because the Headmistress had told him not to the one time he’d tried it. She was worried he’d fall and hurt himself, which Harry guessed he could understand.

He was just so tired, and he wasn’t sleeping right, and he needed to find a way to calm down, but nothing was working. Which led him to this very moment, staring at the door that had appeared in the middle of the wall.

He’d asked the Room of Requirement for a place where he could relax, where he could wind down, where he could let go of some of the stress that was building within him. At just a month back into the school year, it really shouldn’t have been so bad, but it was. He had to do something.

He just hoped that the Room hadn’t given him a place like where he’d trained Dumbledore’s Army. Harry didn’t know if he could handle that at the moment.

He opened the door and froze, his eyes widening, his breath coming in startled little gasps. He hadn’t known what to expect, but whatever it was, it hadn’t been what he found. Was the room broken?

Harry slipped inside, not sure how he felt about what the room had given him. It looked… like a children’s playroom, done in soft shades of blue and green, with dozens of soft toys scattered about. There was a bookshelf filled with children’s books, and a table with crayons and coloring books stacked on it. There were blocks and bricks, and a small train set that ran throughout the room, the train clicking and clacking along the tracks.

Something in Harry eased just being in the room. He closed the door behind himself, shame driving him to move a little bit faster than he might have otherwise, because what if someone saw him in here? Not that… not that he was going to stay, because he wasn’t, but…

But he’d asked the room for a way to relax, and it wasn’t like playing with children’s toys was particularly stressful…

Would it hurt to try it out, now that he was there?

Harry walked further into the room and sat hesitantly at the table. He looked through the coloring books, thinking that maybe he’d heard something about coloring being good for stress levels. If it was… well, it wasn’t like it would hurt, right? He opened up the pack of crayons and picked a page, a unicorn prancing through a forest.

He started to color, losing himself in the process of it, until he’d made a perfectly white unicorn surrounded by a green and brown forest, with a handful of black birds. It was boring, but it was pretty and perfect, and he felt a little better than he had.

If coloring had helped…

Harry looked around the room. The floor was very soft, but there was a part of the floor that looked even more soft, with pillows and blankets and a stuffed bear that was about half his size. There was a children’s book near there, one that he’d never read but had seen Dudley with a number of times. Harry hesitated, then, slowly, he abandoned the table and went to sit on the floor by the book, which was laid out invitingly.

He was very tired, and it wasn’t like anyone could find him here. So who cared if he read the book? It wouldn’t hurt anything. And maybe, if he was lucky, he’d be able to take a nap in this quiet, comforting room, and maybe he wouldn’t have any nightmares.

Harry didn’t imagine he was that lucky, but he thought he might try it anyway. So he picked up the book and began to read. It was a cute book involving dogs and hats and busy days, and Harry only made it about halfway through, reading quietly to himself, his voice barely above a whisper because of the lingering fear that someone, anyone, might hear him, before his eyes drooped shut and he successfully drifted off to sleep.

ooOOooOOoo

Part of the problem with being back at Hogwarts was Malfoy.

It wasn’t that Harry thought that the blonde was up to anything, because it was painfully clear to Harry that he wasn’t. Malfoy apparently went to exactly three places: his classes, the Great Hall, and back to his rooms. Harry hadn’t even seen him in the library, not that Harry himself frequented that particular place all that often.

Malfoy was pale and drawn, looking almost as tired as Harry did most of the time. Harry knew that he was having nightmares, because how could he not be? He’d lived with the Dark Lord for a year; who could even begin to imagine what he’d been through in that time? Not Harry. Harry had enough trouble with the memories of the visions he and Voldemort had shared.

So it wasn’t necessarily that Harry was worried that Malfoy was up to something, it was more like he was worried about Malfoy, especially since the other Slytherins, either the ones who’d returned normally or the few who had come to re-take their final year, seemed to be shunning him.

“Would you stop staring at Malfoy?” Hermione hissed to him, frustration making her hiss sharp, almost staccato.

Harry winced and forced himself to focus on his pudding. It was good, but he wasn’t really hungry for it. “Sorry,” he muttered, and forced himself to take a small bite of it.

“You reckon the git’s up to something?” Ron asked, his mouth full of his own dessert. Crumbs sprayed everywhere when he spoke.

Harry tried to ignore how his stomach churned at the sight of Ron’s half-eaten food. Instead, he said quietly, “No, not at all. I just think he looks tired and lonely, that’s all.”

“You look tired and lonely,” Ron pointed out. “If you’d just get back with Ginny—”

The slap to the back of his head came from nowhere, or it probably did to him, anyway. Harry had seen Ginny creeping up behind him, and buried his snickers in another bite of his own cake. “How many times have I told you that I don’t want to get back with Harry?” Ginny asked, her voice a little shrill. She sounded like she’d been taking lessons from Molly when it came to yelling, and Harry was suddenly very glad he wasn’t on her bad side.

“Sorry!” Ron said. He ducked his head when she went to smack him again. “I’ll stop talking about it, I’m sorry. Geeze.”

“Good.” Ginny winked at Harry, then left the Great Hall with her friends, in a group of giggling girls.

Harry sighed and looked back down at his cake. “Anyway,” he said tiredly. “I’m just worried. I don’t think he’s up to anything, or anything like that. I think he’s just tired.” Like he was.

But… but going to the Room of Requirement the night before had helped, and for once he’d actually been able to sleep without nightmares, curled up in a nest of pillows. He’d woken up clutching at the giant bear, practically clinging to it, and he’d felt so much more well-rested than normal that it had been worth the third-degree he’d gotten from Ron about where he’d slept for the night. And worth it for the one that followed with Hermione, who was even worse than Ron was in many ways when it came to worrying about Harry’s well-being.

Maybe… maybe Harry would go back there tonight. Just to see if it helped again. Not because he needed it or anything, because nobody needed to sit around and color and play with stuffed animals, but… but…

But it had helped, when so little actually did. So maybe he would go back, and maybe if it helped enough, he’d be able to stop.

Besides, even if it was strange, what was wrong with a little bit of coloring? Surely nothing could be wrong with that, right?

ooOOooOOoo

It did help, and Harry found himself spending the night there once more. He hadn’t meant to; time just sort of got away from him while he was in the children’s playroom. He tended to drift off to sleep in the middle of the floor, with blankets on top of him and pillows beneath him, with that massive teddy bear wrapped in his arms.

The Room of Requirement had provided pajamas for him that night, but Harry hadn’t put them on. He thought it was strange, and even though the white, fluffy rabbit onesie looked comfortable, and looked like it would fit him well, he couldn’t bring himself to wear it. That would be too far for him, he was sure of it.

The onesie would be what crossed the line from just indulging in some childish stress relief to something he didn’t have a name for.

But the stress relief was working, and everyone seemed to be noticing it. Ron, in particular, two weeks after he’d started hanging out in the Room of Requirement, seemed to be quite curious.

“So, who are you spending your nights with?” he asked bluntly, sitting down across from Harry. “Because I know it’s not with Ginny, since both of you keep telling me to drop that subject.”

Harry froze, his mouth gaping open, his fork lifted halfway. “What?” he finally squeaked out.

“Who are you spending your nights with? It’s clear that you’re working off some stress with someone, if you know what I mean.” Ron winked at him, the gesture over the top and lascivious.

Harry wrinkled his nose; he couldn’t help it. The action was almost reflexive. “No one,” he said honestly. “I’ve just been hanging out in the Room of Requirement, working off some stress.” It was, technically, the truth, even if it would lead Ron down an entirely different direction than the actual truth.

“Getting in some Defense practice?” Ron asked with a knowing nod.

Like Harry would ever need to practice Defense Against the Dark Arts, given how much practical experience he had with it. “Yeah,” he said, nodding along. It was just easier if Ron thought that was what he was doing. “I’ve been wearing myself out, and so I fall asleep down there. It’s working, and I’d like to think I’m much less stressed than I used to be.”

“You seem to be,” Ron agreed. He started to shovel his breakfast into his mouth, and Harry resumed eating his own after a moment’s pause.

His eyes travelled, as they so often did these days, to Malfoy, sitting alone at the Slytherin table once again, barely eating any of his food. He looked like he could use some stress relief, maybe even of the same variety that Harry indulged in.

Not that Harry would ever be able to bring himself to suggest it to him. The thought of being laughed out of Hogwarts made his ears burn in embarrassment. Besides, he didn’t even know how he would say it. _Want to come color with me?_ sounded absolutely ridiculous.

He forced his eyes back to his plate and made himself take another bite of food. No, he wouldn’t be inviting Malfoy to join him any time soon.

ooOOooOOoo

A month after that, and Harry was spending every night in the Room of Requirement, not even pretending to return to Gryffindor Tower at night. Undoubtedly, Ron thought that his excuse of going to train at night was just that, an excuse, but he’d stopped harassing Harry over it.

And Harry was enjoying himself, he really was. He was getting proper sleep, and there was something so… peaceful, about letting himself just… just be a little kid when he was in the Room of Requirement. nothing could hurt him there, and no one could find him. It was okay if he told himself stories while he colored, or if he read out loud to himself in his most childish voice.

There was something so soothing about having the chance to do those things, something so warm and comforting, and he found himself dropping into the mindset of a child more and more frequently when he visited the playroom. He would have been concerned about it, but honestly, it wasn’t like he couldn’t stop going if he needed to. It wasn’t like he couldn’t be ready at a moment’s notice for battle, if the issue should arise.

Not that it did. If there were still Death Eaters out there, they were trying their hardest not to be noticed.

And then, one day, when Harry was quietly coloring in one of the books the playroom was always stocked with, he heard a sound that made his heart stop. The door clicked closed.

It had already been closed, which meant that at some point it had opened, and Harry didn’t want to turn around to see who’d followed him. Was it Ron, finally tired of the excuse Harry had given him a month ago? Was it Hermione, looking for him to make sure he’d done his homework? Or was it someone else, for some other reason?

“Potter.”

Or it could be Malfoy, here to make Harry’s life a living nightmare. He let the crayon fall from his hand and twisted in the chair, suddenly painfully glad that he’d never given in to the allure of the fluffy rabbit pajamas the playroom supplied for him all the time. “Malfoy,” he forced himself to say quietly, hoping that maybe the blonde might turn around and go away.

Malfoy looked exhausted, with deep bruises under his eyes that might at some point have been shadows. He was thin, skeletal almost, and his lips were pressed tightly together as he looked around the playroom. “I was looking for someplace to de-stress,” he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. “I wasn’t expecting to find… this.”

Harry hesitated. He could tell Malfoy to fuck off, or he could… He could tell him the truth. “That’s what I was looking for,” he said, before he could even really make up his mind about what he intended to say. “A place to settle down, to try and get rid of some of the stress I’ve been under, to help deal with the nightmares. This is what the Room of Requirement provided for me.”

Malfoy looked around the room, his shoulders hunching in like he was nervous. “And it helps?” he asked, his voice small and… and vulnerable, Harry thought.

“It does,” he confirmed quietly. “It helps a lot.” He looked down at the coloring book in his hands, then asked, a bit hesitantly, “Want to come color with me?”

The ‘no’ was visible on the tip of Malfoy’s tongue, but he shook his head and bowed it. “You wouldn’t mind?” he asked instead of answering the question.

“As long as you don’t tell anyone, I don’t mind,” Harry said honestly. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel comfortable doing some of the activities he normally did with Malfoy there, but he could color with him, and Malfoy looked like he desperately needed some of what Harry had.

Besides, hadn’t he imagined this very scenario only a few weeks ago? Granted, in his imagination it hadn’t turned out nearly as well, but that was okay. This was better.

“Okay,” Malfoy said quietly, tiredly, and folded himself into the chair beside Harry. He picked up another coloring book, this one with a princess and a knight on the cover, and smiled, the expression a little helpless. “Okay,” he said again, and let out a deep sigh.

Harry picked up his green crayon, which he was using to color the sun, and went back to coloring. It was sloppier than it had been a month ago; Harry no longer bothered with staying in the lines or with choosing realistic colors, but it made him happy.

And when he glanced over at Malfoy, who was quietly but determinedly coloring in a field of flowers with great attention to staying within the lines, he was pleased to see that he seemed much more relaxed.

Maybe it could work, having both of them in the playroom together.

ooOOooOOoo

It did work, as it happened. It was different, having Draco in the room with him, but it wasn’t a bad sort of different. Rather, after a few weeks of playing together, it almost helped Harry slip even further into a more childlike state. He couldn't decide if that was really a good thing or not, but it definitely helped relieve his stress.

And Draco knew how to use some of the toys that Harry could only have imagined how they worked, especially the ones that had only started showing up when Draco had joined Harry in the room creation process for the first time. “Wow,” Harry breathed, when Draco finished setting up the thing that had been in the corner, the massive one that looked almost like a Muggle projector. Draco tapped it with his wand and…

And the room went dark, and stars swirled around the room in a lazy dance. “It’s like a mobile,” Harry whispered. He reached out to touch a star that danced near his head, only to have it dart away. He let out a childish little giggle and flopped backwards onto his back to watch the stars dancing.

“You like it?” Draco asked. He sounded… not quite as childish as Harry did, but then, he’d only started joining Harry in the playroom a few days ago. Already the bags under his eyes were disappearing, and he’d started eating more at meals. It was definitely helping him, and Harry was pleased to see that.

“It’s really pretty,” Harry said honestly.

“I used to have one like it when I was a child,” Draco said. He settled back on the floor as well, his arms locked behind his head. “It was my favorite, even though it was only supposed to be for babies. My mother used to let it run for me when Father was out of town. And then he came back early one day, when I was six, and he caught me using it. He was… he was furious. It was destroyed, and I never made the mistake of playing with childish things again.”

Harry looked at Draco, whose eyes were closed. But having his eyes closed wasn’t stopping the tears from seeping out slowly out from under them, and Harry let out a small, tired sigh. He reached out and hesitantly brushed Draco’s tears away with gentle fingers, then settled a little bit closer to him, close enough that Draco could feel his warmth, but far enough away not to crowd him.

“I never had any toys growing up,” Harry whispered. He didn’t look away from Draco as he spoke, and so he got to watch Draco’s eyes fly open in surprise. “I know, that’s not what you or anyone else would have expected, but it’s the truth. My relatives… they hated me more than anything else. They called me a freak.” Harry had to stop talking because his throat was getting choked up.

“You aren’t a freak,” Draco said immediately. “You’re just… you know, the child of prophecy, the boy who lived to save us all.”

Harry laughed, the sound a little soggy. “They were never much impressed by any of that, not that I have any idea what Dumbledore told them at first. He just kind of left me on their doorstep when I was a baby, from what I understand. I grew up thinking that my parents died in a car accident.”

Draco let his breath out in a low hiss. “That’s shitty,” he muttered. He reached out and took Harry’s hand, which was so close to his head. His hand was warm and solid, and Harry let their fingers twine together without protest.

“Guess we both had pretty crappy childhoods,” Harry said. He let his eyes drift closed. The stars twirling in the faux-night sky were soothing, and if it was like a Muggle mobile, he was sure that it was at least partially designed to help put children to sleep.

“Yeah,” Draco agreed. He squeezed Harry’s hand, but his fingers eventually went limp around Harry’s. Part of Harry wanted to open his eyes and check on him, but he was tired. So instead, he took off his glasses and set them carefully to one side, then drifted off to sleep by Draco’s side.

ooOOooOOoo

Draco was giggling at Harry, who was trying his hardest to explain how a rocking horse worked. The Room had provided one for them, one that would actually hold them, and Harry sort of wanted to use it, but Draco seemed to think the entire idea was ridiculous.

“But it won’t go anywhere,” Draco wheezed through his laughter. “What’s the point if it doesn’t go anywhere?” He wasn’t being mean about it; he just seemed to genuinely not understand what Harry was saying.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, a little exasperated. He climbed on top of the horse and pitched forward a little bit, letting out a little shriek as it did so. “Dudley used to have one, though, and I was never allowed to play on it, so you’d better believe that I’m going to try it now!”

Draco had lunged forward when he shrieked, his hands braced as though he were going to catch Harry, but when Harry didn’t fall, and in fact began rocking back and forth on the horse, he relaxed a little bit. “And?” he asked, his lips twitching up just a little bit. He couldn’t quite get rid of the skepticism on his face.

Harry closed his eyes and rocked for a few minutes. A smile spread over his face. “It’s kind of nice,” he said finally. “Not like flying or anything, in fact, I’d say it’s a completely different feeling, but it’s nice. I think I like it.”

“Well, that’s good then,” Draco said. His voice was a little distant, and when Harry opened his eyes, Draco had retreated to the pit where they tended to nap. He flopped on the ground, on top of one of the two giant bears that the Room now provided for them, and grabbed one of the children’s books at random.

Harry rocked for a few more minutes, but decided that he was bored with it soon enough. It was fun, but it was really nothing like flying. He supposed that the Room couldn’t get everything right on the first try, although he wouldn’t exactly call the horse a dud. It was more that it just wasn’t that interesting. He slid off of the horse and followed Draco into the pillow pit, flopping on the other massive bear much like Draco had.

“Read to me?” he asked, and flinched at how childishly the words came out.

Draco blinked at him, but smiled. “I can do that,” he said. He shifted closer to Harry, dragging his bear over as well, so that Harry could see the pictures in the book as he read out loud to him. His voice slipped into something more childish as well as he read, and Harry relaxed to hear him speaking.

Draco had only gotten halfway through the story when someone cleared their throat behind them both. Harry’s heart stopped, for the second time in a few months. He rolled over, to find that Luna was standing in the entrance, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

“L-luna,” Harry stammered. He scrambled to sit up, his heart pounding with a sudden adrenaline rush. “It’s not…”

“This isn’t what it looks like, Lovegood,” Draco said just as quickly. He sat up as well, shoving the book behind him like it would help to hide what they’d just been doing.

“I think it’s exactly what it looks like,” she said, her voice not at all sharp. It was still light, still dreamy like it almost always was. Her eyebrows dropped into a more normal expression, and she smiled sweetly at them both. “Would you boys like someone to read the story to you?” she asked.

Harry swallowed and glanced at Draco. Draco glanced back at him. Neither of them were sure of how to answer, so they remained silent.

Luna sighed. “You can’t imagine that I would pick on either one of you for this,” she said. She moved further into the room, toeing off her shoes as she went. She settled on the couch in front of them pillow pit, and grabbed the picture book from behind Draco as she did it. “We all need to de-stress sometimes,” she said cheerfully. “Now, would you like me to start at the beginning, or would you like me to pick up where you left off?”

Draco hesitated, still unable to answer. But Harry… Harry trusted Luna. If there were one person who wouldn’t hold this over their heads, it was Luna. So he asked, quietly and in not quite the same childish voice that he used when it was just him and Draco, “Could you start from the beginning?” And then he moved his bear closer to her and settled so that he could see the pictures as she read.

Draco moved up beside him, a bit slower than Harry. “Please?” he asked, and bit his lip once he’d said it.

Luna just smiled at them both. “Of course I can,” she said, and started to read.

Harry closed his eyes and listened, smiling at the silly, childlike voices she used when reading for the different characters. It was different than when Draco read to them both, but he thought maybe it might be better.

He drifted off to sleep listening to Luna speak. It took a little longer than it might have because he was still concerned about what would happen in the future, but he managed it eventually. And when he slept, he dreamt of playing children’s games with Draco while Luna watched out for them both, and something in that dream just felt so right that when he woke up hours later, with Draco snuggled up against his side as he’d taken to doing while asleep, he found he wasn’t at all concerned that Luna had seen them, and had joined them.

He couldn’t be certain, of course, because nothing in life was ever certain, but he thought that Luna was going to be a good thing for them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not ruling out the possibility of a sequel, or maybe a second chapter to this fic. Let me know what you thought of it!


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